


Taking a Bullet

by Danny (DannyC)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, batfamily stuff, sort of, they all sort of get along here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:59:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6104099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyC/pseuds/Danny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Jason had always hoped that wasn’t true; since un-dying he didn’t have all of his memories from before, and the ones of after weren’t always so great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking a Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt in which Jason takes a bullet for someone else. It was supposed to have a happy ending but I guess I suck at those. Pseudo-happy endings for the win.

_“Tim!”_

_No names in the field, Robin._ How many times had he heard that as a boy? Admittedly not that many, since Jason had been more than happy to call Bruce things like “big bad” or “old man”. It comes back to him now though, as he calls out to his brother. He’s slow, so fucking slow, he isn’t gonna make it in time. The cold terror that fills him for a moment makes him numb, empty of all but determination. He will not watch another Robin [albeit ex] die. He will not accept this cycle, the end that comes to each of them too soon. He will not lose another brother, replacement or not, not when they’ve so recently become something of a family again.

He’s been trying. Goddamn he’s been trying, trying to stay Jason and not just Hood, trying to do right by Dick like he had once, back when Dick smiled and ruffled his hair, calling him his Little Wing. Hell, he’s even been trying to be something akin to civil with Bruce, when it strikes his fancy. Working with the birds and Bat hasn’t been so bad, he really had missed watching Bruce do his thing, even if their methods differed so drastically these days. And now… And now it’s going to end, and he can’t accept it.

And so he shouts Tim’s name though it isn’t allowed, and he runs, throws his arms around Red Robin’s body in some twisted hug, only to sling him to the side. Too late too late god he’s too late. There’s no way he made it in time, he saw that bastard raise his gun and ran, but Jason is big, isn’t as fast as the others. He’s too late and he knows it, he just _knows_ it…

The knowledge that he isn’t fast enough, that there’s no way he saved his brother, it blows through him with a pain so intensely physical that Jason can’t stop himself, drops to his knees right where Tim had been standing mere moments ago before Jason had literally thrown him out of the way. He feels kind of shitty about that; Tim had been shot and Jason had tossed him to the side like a doll. From his knees he draws his own gun, shooting the man in the chest three times though he knows it only took one to kill him. It hurts, fuck it hurts, he let Tim die – no way the kid survived being shot at such a close range – and it hurts, a burning in his chest chased by the icy cold spreading through him. Something bubbles up from inside, a sob that comes out as a gurgling cough, warmth slipping down from his lips and blooming over his chest. It kind of feels nice, chases away the blizzard suddenly blowing in his veins.

When Jason suddenly finds himself slumped over, laying on the ground, his brows furrow just a little. Tim isn’t lying on the ground where Jason had thrown him, but that isn’t possible. He couldn’t have just gotten up from a gunshot like that. Had Bruce already claimed him, carried one more dead son away from battle? He doesn’t know. There’s a sound, something mumbled around him, like someone speaking to him from the bottom of a well. “What? I can’t hear you,” he tries to say, but his words come out gurgled, choked by… blood? Blood, that trickles out from the corners of his mouth as he feels himself moved, lifted and cradled. He feels like he’s floating, maybe falling. It’s wrong. Tim should be dead, Jason didn’t save him, but he’s right there with the others, staring at him with this _look_ on his face.

Jason’s eyes roll into the back of his head for a moment before he focuses again, looking up this time. He’s floating and falling and being carried. Bruce. Bruce is cradling him, saying…something. His name. They’re all saying his name and talking and he can hear now, past the rushing sound and the bubbling noise coming from his own chest. “No names in the field,” he tries to tell them, and he feels Bruce’s chest move against him, maybe a laugh or a sob, he doesn’t know. He hopes it’s a laugh. No one should cry over spilled milk, or spilled blood, and Jason knows it’s spilling fast. He tries to swallow some of it down so he can breathe again, but that’s hard to do, fingers clawing into Bruce’s suit some as he looks around again, or let’s his head loll, he doesn’t know anymore. “I’m not sorry,” he says, managing to find Red Robin again, he and Robin pressed in close to Nightwing as they all travel together. The Bat and his little flock. Down one, yet again. He isn’t sorry though, he _isn’t._ Better me than any of them, he thinks; the universe was bound to call him back to his grave sometime, and at least they already had a place ready for him. Maybe his Hood costume would go up next to his Robin costume. The idea of it makes him laugh, but it comes out as another wet cough.

There’s so much to say, shit he knows he’s supposed to tell them. Sorry I tried to kill all of you. Sorry I came back a little fucked up, but I made up for it tonight, right? Your Christmas presents are with Roy because I can’t wrap gifts for shit. Please don’t lock my casket this time, just in case, and leave me a flashlight because I fucking hate waking up in the dark. But god, he doesn’t know if he’s coming back this time, really fucking doubts it and god, for as long as he had chased this, he’s scared. He’s terrified, even as they talk to him, tell him it’s okay, he’s going to be fine, they’re almost to the car. He isn’t sure when they took his helmet off or where it is, just knows he doesn’t have it to hide the way his chin quivers some. He’s supposed to be snarky and laugh, toss up the bird and die smirking, but he can’t. He can’t and he hates it, because they can see that he’s scared, that he’s trembling with it.

They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Jason had always hoped that wasn’t true; since un-dying he didn’t have all of his memories from _before_ , and the ones of _after_ weren’t always so great. He sees it now though, his mom smiling at him on the rare days when she didn’t need so much to feel. Bruce, that look on his face he sometimes got when he smiled and Jason knew he was worthy and loved. So many happy moments with Alfred, who was more than he ever could have asked for, taught him how to live as Jason instead of just survive as a punk, and taught him to be Jason again when the Pit burnt him out and left him with Hood. He could remember the best day of his life, suiting up for the first time, and nights spent hiding in the rafters to ambush Batman in the cave, jumping onto his back to cover his eyes with gleeful _I got you!_ s and making him _guess who!_ Moments shared with Dick, with Tim, Steph, Cass, Damian. With Roy and Kori, even Donna. Appearances of his friends and family, moments that had been lost to him for so long and the good times since coming back all flickering through. He really had been happy before and, seeing this, Jason thinks he’s been happy since.

His grip weakens on Bruce’s suit and his chin stops quivering. He isn’t scared, and the cold is warm now, more right than wrong. Jason can hear them, urgent and repeating his name over and over, breaking the rules because they’re dumb and don’t listen to Batman. They should. He’s usually pretty close to right. He gives a quiet hum of effort as he looks up, gazes at the sky that isn’t the sky but something else, darkness clouding in and blocking out the lights that should be coming off of buildings. It’s okay now, he thinks. It doesn’t hurt and he isn’t afraid, and for the first time since waking up again Jason doesn’t hear Him, doesn’t feel the Pit coiled inside. For the first time in a long time, Jason listens to his…family, looks up and…knows. It’s okay now, he is worthy, he is loved.


End file.
